The Country of the Broken
by Chikoshika101
Summary: Bizenghast remembers bits and pieces of her past, the dark and light parts, as she lays on her death bed, surrounded by those she loves. Where things went wrong, and where they went right once again. Everything before that disastrous fire and even a little bit after it. Warning: Non-existent Nation Oc, Death, and really dark humor in some places. Rated for content and my paranoia!


**An: For those of you who have read my story ****The Girl in Blue****, you already know alittle bit about my Oc Bizenghast. Some of you might have just heard of her, or at least seen her name in the chapter listing, from ****Switzerland's Trigger Happy Letters to the World****, which belongs to **_**ConfoederatioHelvetica**_. **Bizenghast is a made-up micronation from the depths of my twisted little mind. I decided to finally write her backstory, and give it to you guys. This is only the first of hopefully many chapters in this fic. If there are a lot of chapters, they most likely won't be as long as this one, so I might just make longer chapters but not a lot. I also plan on doing a story like this for my fan-character Kathy Woodward. Anyway, the name Bizenghast is actually the name of a manga I like to read called ****Bizenghast****. I found the **_**GLORIOUS **_**author on DeviantArt and got permission to use the name. YAY!**

_Italics: 'Thoughts' and important-ish words. Also, different language._

Normal: "Talking" and Normal Story

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own the anime ****Hetalia**** or the manga ****Bizenghast****. Just my character.**

* * *

Bizenghast was laying incoherent on her bed inside a blinding white hospital room, slowly dying from the damage done by the great forest fire that had decimated and destroyed her people and land. From what she had been told, only one of her citizens was still alive, but just barely. The micronation was only a shadow of her former self, with her once long black hair now burned off, skin paler than a ghost, and her body, once healthily muscled, was now nothing more than skin and bones. Her blue eyes were glazed over from the moriphine in her system and the pain that still managed to bypass the medication. Bizenghast turned her head slightly at the sound of a door opening and saw her loved ones paying one last visit.

Sealand was quick to reach the bed, his eyes shining with sorrow. "Bizen! H-How are you feeling?" said the twelve year old to his eleven year old adopted cousin. The girl only let a small smile grace her bandaged face and shook her head. She no longer had the strength to speak. The smile quickly turned into a grimace and a wince as searing pain went through her broken body. "Y-You're gonna be okay though, right? Y-You'll feel b-better soon, I-I know it!" Sealand lied to himself. They all knew she wouldn't be able to make it this time. Sweden came, patted Bizen's head with a sad look on his face, and manuevered his son away from the bed. Finland quickly joined the two.

Iceland and Norway were the next to come to the bed. Iceland was the first to say anything, "I'm going to miss you Biz. I kind of enjoyed being your big brother... Even if you were a pain-in-the-neck a lot of the time." The teenager pulled a blackened charm bracelet from his pocket and clipped it around the girl's slim wrist. She looked at it in shock. "Liechtenstien found it when everyone was looking for survivors. I figured you might want to see it one last time." Iceland explained. His adopted little sister smiled at him in delight.

Norway watched the exchange in silence and took Iceland's place after the teenager joined the other three. The norwegian simply stared at the micronation he had known since she was small. He quickly averted his gaze as memories of her playing and laughing in his snow covered yard began to race through his mind. He didn't want her to see any emotions in his eyes. Norway returned to looking at the little girl and was shocked to find her grinning at him, even through her pain. She understood. The man patted her on the head and walked away to join the other Nordics in the corner.

Denmark was the last to approach the bed and the only one to pull a chair out and sit next to her. Bizenghast gathered up enough strength and managed to croak out a weak "Papa..." The Danish man hadn't had his thought-to-be eternal smile on, but just hearing her say that one word caused a small likeness to it appear on his face. Reaching into his back pocket, the nation revealed a soot-covered, golden locket. The picture case was a simple square, with a phrase in Danish inscribed on both slipped the chain over the little girl's head, carefull not to jostle it, because of the sever concussion she had aquired.

"Oh Kira," he said, touching her bandaged face gently, "Do you... Do you remember the day we found you? It used to be hazy when I tried to remember on a normal occasion, but now... It's all so clear." Denmark watched as the micronation nodded and closed her eyes in remembrance...

* * *

_The Year was 1965:_

_'All I ever hear is screaming...'_ thought a little girl as she huddled in the corner, waiting for the food that might never come. Her cell was five feet long, was just as wide, and six feet high . The only things in the room, if it could be called that, were a straw mat, a full chamber pot, and a filthy, worn stuffed rabbit. There was nothing else in the putrid smelling cell. The only way out was a heavy, solid metal door with a small catflap for food trays to be slid through. The door had a thick window of reinforced glass so the cell's 'occupant' could see out into the hallway. Not that she could, even if she wanted too. She never did anyway.

The small child in the corner was as foul as her place of residence. Her short, once coal black hair was now a dark brown from dirt and grime, and looked like it had been cut with a hacksaw. The little girl's clothes were just a ratty grey shirt nd ripped grey leggings. Once upon a time, the outfit had been white. If you looked closely through the dirt that had built up from years of not washing, a person could see that she was quite pretty. Her eyes gave it away. They were the same rich, cool blue as the sky on a cloudless day in winter. Her eyes were rimmed with long, thick lashes that gave her a wide eyed look of eternal wonder. Alas, those eyes were not full of wonder, but with an intelligence that no normal child of her supposed age of five should possess. They were steel-like, hardened from the horrors she had endured over the last ten years. But her eyes were also fogged over and hazy. She rarely blinked and stared sightlessly into the darkness of her world. The little girl was blind.

"Here you go, ya little freak!" shouted the muffled voice of a man as a tray of food found its way into the mysterious child's cell via the catflap. "Be grateful that the great Doctor cares enough about you that he spends his hard-earned money on you brats. Especially _YOU_, his darling little Kira~" said the cold voice, malice slipping into his words.

The child simply ignored the man, crawling weakly to the tray and devouring its contents. It had been days since she was last given food or drink of any sort. "No wonder your the Boss's favorite patient!" said the voice, followed by a quick bang on the door. "I've worked here for fifteen years, five years before you showed up. When you did though, I knew something wasn't right, not normal about you." A high, slightly insane laugh," Now I know! You haven't changed at all in the last decade. The only thing different about you is your stupid hair! It used to be long and free as the wind before we hacked it all off."

Kira simply remained quiet and finished her small meal before sliding it back through the flap. She wanted to say something, _ANYTHING,_ to get the man to shut up, like she used to. Before they broke her. But then she would be punished. The workers might even send her to Dr. Downing Hahn earlier than usual. Anything but that. _'Don't do anything Kira, don't say it. Just wait until he leaves...'_ thought the child. But he didn't leave.

"Only another hour until it's time for your _appointment_ Kira. As always, you're the first one to go. The great Doctor simply does love experimenting on you, doesn't he? You really should be grateful, all of you brats should. Dr. Downing Hahn is the heart, soul, and brains of this fine facility. He's turned it into a haven for misunderstood scientists, a home and workplace for the down trodden, and a lab to test new techniques and chemicals on it's all-too-willing children!~" The man laughed insanely yet again.

Kira had slowly gotten angrier and angrier as the man gushed about the Doctor. She was just about to scream an insult at him when another child beat her to it. "WILLING! You call us willing? You keep us in cells against our will, and force us to be that bastard and poor excuse of a scientist's testing dummies. We're not willing, we're not patients. We're PRISONERS IN THIS GODFORSAKEN HELLHOLE!" shouted the child, the boy that was sick of the crap he and his fellow children, went through day after day. His fellow prisoners began to scream their agreements.

The man who had given Kira her food exploded. "How dare you say such things! You ungrateful brats!" he roamed down the hall, banging on the cell doors to quiet occupants.

Kira scooted back into her corner and held her hands to her ears to block out the sounds. Because she was blind, her other senses were magnified ten-fold to make up for their one missing partner. Because of what she was, her senses were already stronger than most humans, but being sightless made them even stronger. You see, Kira wasn't human, at least not in the traditional sense of the word. She could go days, or even weeks, with food or water, didn't age like most people, and healed exponentially fast. That was why she was Dr. Downing Hahn's favorite subject.

Kira was the personification of a country. Barely even that. She was what was known as a Micronation. Her real name wasn't even Kira, at least, not really. Kira was her Human Name. Her real name was Bizenghast. Her small island had been settled by people who had willing exiled themselves from their native lands of Denmark, Norway, and Iceland. The blind, the mute, the lame, the raped and the insane. The misunderstood. They had all gathered in Denmark and sailed off to who-knows-where. But then, a terrible storm occured and they ended up shipwrecked on a little island surrounded by a free-standing fog bank and sharp rocks. They decided the island was exactly what they wanted and settled down. The group of about three hundred-and-fifty called themselves _The Broken_. Bizenghast was _The Country of the Broken_.

Bizenghast had never met another of her kind, not in the fifteen years of her existence. She honestly believed that she never would either. The little micronation thought she would always be in this labratory, forever to be experimented on. Of course, she was wrong in this belief, but she didn't know that. She didn't know that her entire world was about to change in just a few short hours...


End file.
